


the everyday we spoke of

by walking_through_autumn



Series: What the Living Do [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_through_autumn/pseuds/walking_through_autumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki brings home a fish, and Amon is not quite sure what to think of this. </p><p>AU, where Amon and Kaneki talked after the incident at Kanou's lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the everyday we spoke of

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from "What the Living Do" by Marie Howe. 
> 
> This verse might be expanded on, because domestic!Amoneki is my weakness.

Kaneki brings home a fish. Of all the things Kaneki has brought home to date, this is something Amon least expects. He stares at the fish swimming in the tiny confines of the plastic bag. It is bright red and yellow, a colourful little thing entirely at odds with their white and brown kitchen, a tiny being currently giving him what he thinks is a wide-eyed, pleading look. Kaneki hums, rummages through the pantry, and mutters about needing to go to the supermarket. He hasn’t changed out of his summer robe – Amon thinks he can smell the faint scent of caramel apples and sticky-sweet candy floss.

After the fish swims two more rounds around the plastic bag and Kaneki offers no explanation, Amon asks, “What is this?”

“A fish.”

Amon looks at him. Kaneki shrugs and returns the look, a look which says Amon did ask the obvious.

“I meant – what is it doing _here_?” Amon says. He prods the bag with a finger, hesitant, the bag so filled with water it seems like it might burst. The fish swims away from his finger, the entirety of its little body screaming fear. Amon removes his finger, hoping his expression can convey his apology to the fish. “Shouldn’t you give this to…Hinami?”

“Ayato already won two for her.” Kaneki locates the can of coffee near the back of the pantry and pulls it out with a grin. He shuffles off to boil the water and take two cups from the drying rack. “Hide didn’t want it, and Banjou already has a dog at his place. So I thought, well – ” he pauses there, expression growing sheepish – “actually, I just wanted to see if I could catch it. I thought Hinami might want it but – yeah.”

“Hmm.”

He surveys the little fish again. It swims the same circular path, around and around the widest part of the plastic bag. Amon never played goldfish catching the few times he went for a summer festival in his life – he never quite understood the fascination people had for it. Maybe because it’s fat, he thinks, looking at the fish’s belly. Or maybe because of the colours, he thinks as the scales glint in the kitchen light. Between the top of the plastic bag and the water there hardly seems to be any space for air.

“We don’t have a tank,” Amon says.

Kaneki looks up from where he had switched off the stove. The steam from the water rise up in curls. “Sorry?”

“We need to get a tank,” Amon says, not sure why Kaneki looks so surprised. After a heartbeat of silence he says, “You _weren’t_ thinking of keeping this fish in a plastic bag?”

Kaneki’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No! No, no, of course not! I just…you – you _want_ to keep it?” He lifts the kettle off the stove and places it next to the can of ground coffee. He looks at the fish that is oblivious to their conversation, then back at Amon. “I didn’t think you would want to keep it.”

“Well, I didn’t think you would bring home a fish,” Amon points out. “But now that you have, I suppose we can keep it…you were thinking of something else?”

Kaneki shakes his head again. He spoons out coffee into the pot and pours the hot water. The fragrance of black coffee spreads from the pot and fills their little kitchen. After he finishes pouring he says, “I was wondering whether Yomo would want to keep it, but he does have Loser so…yeah, we can keep it, I think.”

He leaves the coffee to steep and goes over to look at the plastic bag with Amon. The fish looks back at them and continues swimming. Amon crosses his arms and thinks about all the containers in their house. “We can keep it in something else first, for tonight…”

“Yeah,” Kaneki says, nodding. He bends over a little to look more closely at the fish. “It can’t stay in the plastic bag all night.”

Amon looks at his partner. The collar of his robe is pulled back, leaving the pale skin of his neck visible. Amon places a hand on Kaneki’s back and asks, “You aren’t going to change?”

The simple striped robe is damp with sweat in some areas. Kaneki straightens up, looking up through his eyelashes at Amon. This close now Amon is sure he hadn’t imagined the smell of cotton candy. He leans closer, eyes fixed on the light sheen on his neck and collarbone. “Why do you smell of cotton candy?” he mutters.

Kaneki leans into his touch and his eyes flick down, then up again. He smiles. “Kimi got some, and Hinami wanted to try a little, see if the medicine is working…it’s not. Not yet, at least. She says it tasted only mildly less revolting than when she tried it for the first time.”

“Progress, I suppose,” Amon says. He dips his head and brushes a quick, light kiss on Kaneki’s forehead, inhaling the sweet scent mixed with the sourness of perspiration. “You should shower,” he says. He wonders how much Kaneki will oppose if Amon joins him in that shower.

“After coffee, promise,” Kaneki says. “I’m so thirsty – and there wasn’t much at the festival that we could – well.”

“Mmm.”

Amon exhales, breath stirring Kaneki’s fringe and making his eyes scrunch shut at the ticklish sensation. He inhales deeply and presses a more lingering kiss on Kaneki’s forehead. Kaneki sighs and lifts a hand, pressing it on Amon’s wrist and stroking. After a moment he says, softly, “The coffee.”

Amon nods, then releases Kaneki so he can go stir the grounds. He stares at Kaneki’s back, the line of his slim waist and hips, then turns around and busies himself looking in the cupboards for containers. At the counter Kaneki stirs the coffee, spoon clinking against the sides of the pot.

There is one container, Amon vaguely recalls, from months ago when they had attempted to grow their own plants on the balcony. It didn’t end well – weeks of sixteen hour work days had led to sad, shriveled stumps in the container of soil. And Kaneki had been looking forward to using fresh tomatoes to cook with too. Amon squints, looking carefully from corner to corner of the large cupboard. Knowing Kaneki he probably kept it out of the way from the other containers they used more often. Just as Amon locates the container, placed deep into the cupboard, he hears Kaneki pouring the coffee into a cup. With some maneuvering and careful shifting of bottles he manages to pull the large rectangular container out.

“Coffee?” Kaneki says, in the silence after the container had been pulled out. He pours into the second cup without waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, thanks,” Amon says. He looks at the container – now tank – with quiet triumph. It is dusty – nothing some washing couldn’t fix. He stands up from his crouch, turning so Kaneki can see the container. Kaneki surveys the container over his cup of coffee, and he laughs a little, the knowing light in his eyes telling Amon that he still remembers their disastrous plant experience. He nods and clears some space for Amon to rest the container on.

On the table the fish continues swimming in its little plastic bag, unaware of the new home it is about to move into.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated :)


End file.
